


And the plot thickens...

by crushing83



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - OC Insert, Alternate Universe - Original Character Insert, Arthur Ketch is King of Creep, BDSM, British Men of Letters, British Men of Letters are creepy, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, F/M, Gags, Impact Play, Ketch is the worst guy, Kink, Men of Letters Bunker, OC hunting with Sam and Dean, Sam and Dean are sneaky, Sam and Dean are the good guys, Threesome, bad attitude towards the Winchesters, bad attitude towards women, bad language, creepy Ketch, dark Ketch, disturbing Ketch, imagine season 12 with a third hunter by their side, mentions of dark situations, please do not read this if you like Ketch, possible triggers, spoilers for everything up to 12x17, violence triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:39:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: The boys return from a hunt, and the surveillance is still working. Arthur listens as they bring a girl home to celebrate. He reflects on their actions---and on his own desires---as he transcribes the conversation.





	And the plot thickens...

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I started writing this before 12x20. 
> 
> 2\. Please don't pay too much attention to the time codes. I tried to guess how long things would take, but... I know I didn't get it right. 
> 
> 3\. If you think Ketch is a good guy in a bad situation or a good guy in general, you probably (definitely) won't like this story. I'd apologise, but he skeeves the crap out of me. // I put some dark (for me) thoughts in Ketch's head. I believe the character has worse in there, but this is as dark as I'm willing to go. I write him as not respectful of women, or of people, really. And I write some disturbing things that I believe probably would turn the character on. // Be warned. There could be triggers in there for some people. (BUT. It's all in his head in this fic. He's not actually doing it.)

With a tumbler of scotch in his left hand, Arthur reached out with his right for his computer mouse. If he timed it correctly---and he knew he did, because a man in his position left very little to chance---the sickeningly close trio of inept hunters should be returning to the bunker after their last assigned hunt. A call would have to be placed, to confirm results, but he wanted to eavesdrop first to see if they let anything _useful_ slip in the post-kill high. 

As the first sound---the heavy door to the garage opening---Arthur took his last (for the moment) sip of his drink and readied his hands to type his transcript.

> [01:20:47] S. Winchester: Come on, man, you always hog the pretty girl. It's my turn.

Arthur arched an eyebrow. Was it the girl that tagged along with them or was it someone else?

> [01:21:02] D. Winchester: I won, Sammy.  
> [01:21:51] S. Winchester: You cheated, Dean.  
> [01:22:05] Unidentified Female: (muffled laughter)

The girl---Arthur wracked his brain for her name and settled on either Ellen or Erica, something bland and common, like her in every sense of the word---had never laughed like that in his presence. She snorted, sure, but she never laughed outright; she seemed so serious and nervous, always watching and biting her lip in the background. He had a hard time picturing either flannel-clad brute thinking she was _pretty_. It couldn't have been her.

Making a mental note to look up the girl's name _again_ , he returned his focus to imagining what the scene in the bunker resembled.

> [01:24:58] D. Winchester: Fine. Fine! Don't say I never do you any favours. Princess, make it a good show for both of us and we'll go easy on you.  
> [01:25:03] S. Winchester: You remember your non-verbals?  
> [01:26:24] S. Winchester: Good girl.  
> [01:26:30] Unidentified Female: (hums)  
> [01:26:35] S. Winchester: Take it off slowly.

There was a sound of rustling, nearly drowned out by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. Arthur documented the sounds as quickly as he could, trying to get in another sip of scotch before he had to resume typing.

> [01:28:22] D. Winchester: Look at her... drooling already around the gag.  
> [01:28:43] S. Winchester: (chuckles) Bet that's not the only place she's wet.  
> [01:28:57] Unidentified Female: (moans)

It could not have been Ellen (or Erica, whatever her name was). She was the kind of girl one pity-fucked, in the dark, when extremely drunk or extremely desperate. She was not the kind of girl one bound and gagged and shagged on a table in a well-lit room; she was not the kind of girl who enjoyed anything left of vanilla.

She was the kind of girl who would be no challenge, when he was finally given the order and set loose on the American hunters.

> [01:29:32] D. Winchester: Fucking soaked. (slurps) Delicious.  
> [01:29:54] S. Winchester: You want to stay down there a while?  
> [01:30:20] D. Winchester: I can wait. I'm a grown-up.

Arthur wondered who they brought home--and where their tag-along ended up for the night.

> [01:30:57] S. Winchester: (huffs) Just like our girl here. All grown up.

Well, Arthur thought, Mummy issues were hardly surprising, given their collective history. It was likely their companion was an older woman---all grown up, as Sam just said.

> [01:35:02] D. Winchester: Want a drink?  
> [01:35:20] S. Winchester: Sure. Bring me the bottle. The good stuff.

Thinking Dean was the alcoholic, hearing the younger Winchester ask for such a wasteful quantity of "the good stuff" would have made Arthur wince if he were so inclined to force an expression past his training (and past his natural ability). He listened and typed various things---like "SW, closet alcoholic? Result of Hell?" and "Ask team to obtain DNA from table on next excursion" and "Waste of quality scotch"---in his transcript, knowing that he'd move them to his private notes before sending the document and the audio file to the head office, so to speak, for analysis.

At the sound of Unidentified Female's shriek and gasp and moan, one after the other and almost overlapped, Arthur considered keeping a copy of the audio for himself.

> [01:37:04] S. Winchester: Fuck, that's good. Here, Dean. Try some. (liquid splatter)  
> [01:37:49] D. Winchester: (slurping)  
> [01:37:55] Unidentified Female: (muffled whimpers)  
> [01:38:03] D. Winchester: Fuuuuck.

Was that the only expletive the ruffians knew?

> [01:40:47] S. Winchester: Can't wait to bury my cock in that perfect pussy... no prep, let you feel the stretch.  
> [01:41:10] Unidentified Female: (muffled whimpers)  
> [01:41:15] S. Winchester: But I won't do it until Dean's eaten you out, getting you so close to cumming at least twice---until you're begging me with those pretty eyes of yours.  
> [01:43:13] Unidentified Female: (more muffled whimpers)  
> [01:43:24] D. Winchester: No pre-show warm-up? She's been good so far.  
> [01:43:58] S. Winchester: (chuckling) The two of you are so alike. Instant gratification isn't the only way.  
> [01:44:43] D. Winchester: But it's fun.  
> [01:44:59] S. Winchester: But so is waiting until she's going to explode. Until she's desperate and wriggling and making those sexier-than-hell noises. And then you give her permission and she just breaks apart on us.  
> [01:47:02] D. Winchester: Hmm. Good point. All right, she waits.

Arthur shifted his weight as he imagined himself in a similar position with Mary. She'd never beg---not willingly---but picturing what it could take to get her to that point was a delicious daydream.

While he loathed to admit it, he was in agreement with them. 

He smirked as he heard more slurping noises and more muffled whimpers and moans, typing the sounds into the transcript as they reached his ears; he almost wished he could be in the room with the old gents (and ladies, though he felt he was using that term loosely) as they read his report. 

Dean had started edging her, he assumed.

> [01:50:06] S. Winchester: How does he feel?  
> [01:50:34] Unidentified Female: (moans)  
> [01:50:44] S. Winchester: Yeah, I bet... look at you. So close already.  
> [01:51:10] Unidentified Female: (muffled squeal)  
> [01:51:21] S. Winchester: Like that?  
> [01:51:29] Unidentified Female: (muffled squeal, moans)  
> [01:52:08] S. Winchester: Been thinking about this all day, princess...

He thought it was unprofessional to let oneself get so distracted, but it wasn't like the unwashed apes had much in the way of discipline.

Although, Mary... 

Well, she was different. Pure-blooded, the product of fine breeding, Mary Campbell (Winchester, he reluctantly added) was a diamond in the filthy rough. Between the glittering look in her eyes when she killed a ghoul---or shifter, or vampire, or anything, really---and the way she stood in the middle of a dead pack with square shoulders and a heaving chest and blood splattered all over her... those images would fuel his fantasies for years. 

Why she tainted her line with a _mechanic_ of all things was beyond Arthur's comprehension. He may have ended up a hunter, he may have been a(n American) Men of Letters legacy---and how strange was the fact that they'd crossed paths and then some?---but he ruined whatever greatness she could have passed onto her offspring. 

Sam and Dean were proof of that. 

They were compromised. They interacted with angels and demons and monsters. They protected them, even, in some cases. If there were a God---because despite the existence of angels, Arthur had his doubts; they were all just monsters, after all---he had no idea why that God didn't just smite them off the map and save the planet a few hundred disasters. 

But, they were certainly enjoying making their mystery woman squeal behind whatever gag she was wearing. 

Arthur listened to the noises. Alternating between typing and drinking, Arthur's thoughts turned to the woman herself. It wasn't their hunter friend; they'd done enough research to learn the brothers' respective types and she was not it. Arthur was willing to wager she was older, strong enough to put herself at their mercy. Ellen (or Erica) was younger; she was too weak, from what he'd witnessed, to surrender the way he assumed their one night stand was giving herself to them. 

Dean did not have a physical type---but he liked his partners strong and sassy. Sam tended to favour shorter, smaller women; he liked to feel stronger and in control, unlike his brother who was willing to give it up from time to time. If Sam sounded that heated, there was a good chance the woman was petite, seemingly delicate but deceptively tough, and she probably had long hair. Given the tally of Sam's most recent exploits, as far as they knew, Arthur was comfortable assuming she was a brunette. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to picture Ellen (or Erica) between the boys. Lip almost curling in disgust, he wondered what Mary would think if it were true. He knew from their hours on the road together that she disliked the other hunter---even though her sons kept the girl with them, even though she'd saved the boys' lives at least a couple of times in the last few years---because she felt the girl was stringing along her boys. Mary told him if anything happened, if anything upset the balance between them, she'd never forgive Ellen---or Erica. 

Arthur assumed Mary didn't know about her boys' predilection for sharing a woman. But, he understood her point. 

The darker side of his mind---oh, who was he kidding, it was all dark and twisted, through and through---pictured him and Mary confronting the other, lesser woman. Her tear-filled grey eyes, her hand playing nervously with her mousy blonde hair, all nervous tics on full display, as Mary gave her a piece of her mind. And then he imagined coming up behind her, bringing up his blade, and---

> [02:01:17] D. Winchester: Easy, princess.  
> [02:01:32] Unidentified Female: (grunts)  
> [02:01:59] S. Winchester: Check in?

Whatever she gestured, it seemed to please the boys because there were more sounds of kissing over his computer speakers.

"Safewords... pathetic," Arthur muttered.

> [02:05:11] S. Winchester: You were supposed to tell us when you were getting close. You know was that means?  
> [02:06:02] Unidentified Female: (whimpers)

Arthur heard and noted sounds of movement, before the first _crack_ of a hand to flesh registered. He smirked, picturing a red handprint on skin, the proof of a touch of violence, and leaned back in his seat as slaps or spanks rained down upon whoever the Winchester boys had brought back with them.

> [02:06:49] Unidentified Female: (moans)  
> [02:07:05] D. Winchester: How exactly is it a punishment when she likes it so damned much?

Sam's response was drowned out by a barely-muffled shriek and some more slapping sounds. And then the slapping sounds were joined by a wet echo.

Allowing himself to fantasize, Arthur imagined the faceless girl with her legs spread and his own gloved hand slamming up into her cunt. The boys weren't talking, so he allowed the fantasy to continue; he imagined pulling her hair, forcing her back to arch beyond what was comfortable, as he rained down spanks on her sensitive flesh. 

The girl with the Winchester boys was still making noise; those sounds were his fantasy's soundtrack.

> [02:08:12] S. Winchester: Fuck, I can't wait to be inside you. So wet... so pink.  
> [02:09:01] D. Winchester: So...  
> [02:09:21] S. Winchester: Open the box.

There were no boxes in that room that Arthur and his men had found and searched---or, at least, no boxes in that room that contained anything remotely useful for the games they seemed to be playing.

A creaking sound reminded him of a long, low crate stored under a chest. They'd searched it. They'd put a tracker on it, too. The only things inside of it were a couple of angel blades on top of an épée and a few daggers, the older items cushioned by purple velvet. 

But, as Arthur tried to remember if there'd been any sign of a tray or secret compartment, he heard the weapons being jostled. He heard them being placed of the floor. And then he heard Dean moving closer to the table (and microphone) again.

> [02:12:15] D. Winchester: We gotta find a better place for the Colt.

Arthur sat up straight in his chair, eyes glued to the active sound waves scrolling across his monitor as he typed Dean's unknowingly-dictated words.

> [02:12:52] S. Winchester: I thought under all your toys would work.  
> [02:13:46] D. Winchester: Yeah, but thinking about her isn't good when we're with _her_.  
>  [02:14:29] Unidentified Female: (snorts)  
> [02:14:30] S. Winchester: (chuckles)

He added another personal note to the rough transcription---"go back in and check that flat crate; must be certain; Colt"---and decided he would call them tomorrow for their report and to give them another assignment so he could sneak in and find that pistol.

> [02:16:03] S. Winchester: I know, pretty girl. He's awfully sweet on that gun, isn't he?  
> [02:16:49] D. Winchester: Aww, c'mon, Sammy. She's priceless.

That gun was definitely priceless. No one else had succeeded in making a weapon so thorough in its ability to kill monsters. Bullets made of iron or silver were sometimes effective; bullets filled with potion were sometimes effective. Records stated that Samuel Colt's gun was always effective, against every monster in existence except for five creatures. The more studious in their order wanted to take it apart and reverse engineer that killing machine so they could make many more killing machines.

If Arthur could find that pistol, he would be welcomed back to the home office with applause and accolades and possibly a few days off in their warehouses where he could let loose and tear into anything he wanted to see in bloody pieces. 

Between the unidentified female's moans that had started up again and his own messy thoughts, Arthur felt his cock rise a little against the fly of his trousers. He palmed it once, then returned his hands to his keyboard. 

He would wait until Mary returned from her hunt. Bottle his wants and needs until they were begging to be released and then loose everything upon her when she was twitchy and hungry and needing her own release. 

_Yes._

> [02:17:12] S. Winchester: How's that feel?  
> [02:17:19] Unidentified Female: (moans)  
> [02:17:24] S. Winchester: Gotta get you ready for us.  
> [02:17:53] D. Winchester: I can wait. We don't have to... y'know.  
> [02:18:09] Unidentified Female: (yelps or squawks; difficult to tell with the gag)  
> [02:18:16] S. Winchester: (laughs) Guess she told you, huh?

Arthur listened as two loud slaps were made. He smirked as the unidentified woman squealed as best as she could.

> [02:19:01] D. Winchester: No topping for you, princess. When we said 'at our mercy,' we meant it. You know what you signed up for.  
> [02:20:10] S. Winchester: God, Dean, she just leaked all over my hand.  
> [02:20:47] D. Winchester: Hmmm, pretty girl? You like when I lean in and growl like this near your ear, reminding you that your place is between us?  
> [02:21:12] Unidentified Female: (whimpers)  
> [02:21:35] S. Winchester: Oh yeah, she loves it.  
> [02:22:11] D. Winchester: And what if I start talkin' about what such a good girl you are? Your ass all rosy and your pussy taking Sammy's fingers like a pro, like they're starving for more... you bein' the best little slut we've ever had down here. Gettin' so wet, so ready to take us, that you're dripping on the floor, and I'm so proud of you, pretty girl, for doin' exactly what we need, what we tell you---  
> [02:25:08] Unidentified Female: (moans and whimpers and shuffles)  
> [02:25:49] S. Winchester: Dean.  
> [02:26:43] D. Winchester: (groans) What a good, good girl, gettin' Sam's hand so wet I can see it shining from here.

Feeling like groaning for a different reason---because he hated messy cunts---Arthur shifted his weight.

> [02:27:02] S. Winchester: I have to fuck her.  
> [02:27:23] D. Winchester: Is she stretched?  
> [02:28:04] S. Winchester: I'll keep going after she climbs on you. Just... let me---  
> [02:28:31] D. Winchester: I want another taste first.  
> [02:28:57] S. Winchester: Sure thing. I'm gonna go grab the other bottle of lube from my room... you two have fun.

Sam's footsteps---and Arthur knew it was Sam because he recognised the sasquatch's long gait---grew quieter as he left the library. Dean chuckled and rubbed his hands together, judging by the sounds Arthur heard next.

> [02:29:27] S. Winchester: (from Corridor B) She can have one, Dean! Just one!  
> [02:29:40] D. Winchester: (snorts)  
> [02:30:15] Unidentified Female: (whines)  
> [02:30:52] D. Winchester: Alone at last, pretty girl.

He heard some shuffling, followed by some slurping, and then anything Dean was doing was drowned out by a series of muffled wails. After fifteen minutes and a few seconds, Arthur heard the unidentified female make a sound that was somewhere between a wordless shout and a smothered curse.

Arthur wondered what Dean did to their date to provoke her to make that noise.

> [02:45:22] D. Winchester: Nope. Sammy might've caved, but I know you can wait---and that it'll be better when we're inside you.  
> 

With a sigh of disappointment, Arthur drained his glass in one final gulp.

> [02:46:13] D. Winchester: You take my fingers so good.

_So well,_ Arthur silently corrected.

> [02:49:38] D. Winchester: Can't wait to put my cock in here...

As a couple of faint squishing sounds reached his ears, Arthur also heard the girl whimper. He rolled his eyes. Dean was acting so predictably; Arthur had hoped his need for violence would have emerged once he was out from under his younger brother's watchful gaze.

> [02:52:30] D. Winchester: Hey. Seriously. Check in?  
> [02:52:50] Unidentified Female: (muffled mumbles)  
> [02:53:27] D. Winchester: Hand check?  
> [02:54:03] D. Winchester: Okay. Good girl. You want me to keep going?

Arthur resigned himself to listening to more simpering whining and over-the-top poetry about a wet cunt. He thought about checking some of the other feeds---or at least their connections---but then he heard the unmistakable sound of a knife being pulled from its sheath and his attention was riveted to the goings-on in the library.

> [02:57:14] D. Winchester: How does that feel, pretty girl? Cold steel against your warm skin... this is a special knife, too. Made for killing bad things... but you're a good thing, aren't you?  
> [02:58:27] Unidentified Female: (whines)  
> [02:58:49] D. Winchester: No, stay still. Don't wanna nick you.

Dean must have pulled his demon-killing knife. Arthur bit back a groan; it was easy to picture that blade at a faceless girl's throat, and he liked that picture.

Loosening his tie, he waited for the next bit of audio to transcribe. It was silent, though---apart from the odd sigh or hum from the girl---so Arthur had to imagine the knife in Dean's hand as the hunter dragged it along her skin. It would leave a red trail in its wake; if pressed too hard against that fragile skin it might even force beads of blood to the surface. Those droplets could be smeared, smudged---

> [03:01:19] D. Winchester: Easy... easy... don't wanna slice that off, now do I?  
> [03:01:51] Unidentified Female: (muffled chuckles)  
> [03:02:23] D. Winchester: And... uuuup...

Arthur bit his tongue. Was the knife at her throat? Was it against her face? Or was it pressing into some place more _delicate_?

> [03:04:41] D. Winchester: That mark goes right through the hickey Sam sucked into you. A little of both of us there, for the world to see.

The knife was at her throat. _Oh, bloody hell..._

For a moment, Arthur's daydream girl, the faceless form, took on Ellen's (or Erica's) visage. He wasn't about to screw her---absolutely not, out of the question---but he was about to slice her throat while Mary watched from the other side of the table. The hungry gleam from a successful kill was in the pedigreed hunter's gorgeous eyes; in his fantasy, she was eager to see the end of the girl who led her boys astray, as he was eager to do the job he was originally brought across the pond to do. 

Just as he was about to imagine how that first cut would go, Sam's gait carried the younger Winchester brother back into the room.

> [03:06:19] S. Winchester: Did you---hey, we didn't negotiate---  
> [03:06:44] D. Winchester: What? She's fine.  
> [03:07:20] S. Winchester: Dean.  
> [03:07:51] D. Winchester: I checked in, I'm not an idiot. A little trust would be great, Sammy.  
> [03:08:07] S. Winchester: (sighs)  
> [03:08:17] S. Winchester: Yeah, all right. Did you let her get off?  
> [03:08:59] D. Winchester: Look for yourself.

After some gross squelching sounds---gross because Arthur knew where Sam's hand was probably positioned, buried between their shared partner's thighs---Sam chuckled.

> [03:11:17] S. Winchester: Fuck, Dean. She's soaked. And so tight. Greedy, the way she tries to keep my fingers inside her.  
> [03:12:50] D. Winchester: Gonna wreck her. Together?  
> [03:13:24] Unidentified Female: (moans)  
> [03:13:31] S. Winchester: (chuckles) Oh yeah. Together.

A beep on his computer alerted him to the use of Mary's security code at the gate. To a soundtrack of cursing and whining and a rather uncouth conversation about what they were doing to prep their woman of the night, Arthur switched the applications to the security camera feeds.

Mary looked _good_. There was a trace of blood at her temple and a bruise around her mouth, but it was the loose set of her shoulders and the swing of her hips that got his attention. She'd had a successful hunt and she could be convinced to celebrate.

_Brilliant._

He turned back to the audio proceedings just in time to hear the woman groan as Dean pontificated on the virtues of her perfect bottom and how her "fucking tight, fucking amazing ass" felt around his cock. Sam's chuckles were nearly drowned out by the creaking of the table under which the main microphone was placed. Arthur wished Dean's words could be drowned out by the table sounds, too.

> [03:25:23] S. Winchester: You ready for me?  
> [03:25:52] Unidentified Female: (moans)  
> [03:26:19] D. Winchester: Come on aboard, Sammy.  
> [03:26:53] S. Winchester: Dean---  
> [03:27:11] D. Winchester: Or jump on in, the water's great.  
> [03:27:56] S. Winchester: Jerk.  
> [03:28:09] D. Winchester: Bitch.

Instead of listening to their inane banter, Arthur made the executive decision to mute the recording; he'd return to it later, after a bit of a reward for listening to all he already heard. Mary would be reporting in, any minute, and he wanted to be able to focus all of his attention on her---and on convincing her to join him on his bunk.

#####

"C'mon," Dean said. "Let's go pick up Karen before she gets bored and causes trouble."

Sam chuckled. "Right, because she's such a trouble-maker," he said, grabbing his coat from a nearby chair and hurrying to catch up to his older brother. "She said she was looking forward to a quiet night out." 

"That's so wrong," Dean muttered. 

They jogged up the stairs and went outside, instead of heading to the garage. When they cleared the entryway, ensuring the door was tightly shut behind them, they looked up at Karen and grinned. 

"Did it work?" She asked. 

Sam nodded. "Yep. Charlie's programme worked. Set up the audio loops on every other feed but the main one." 

"Thank goodness," Karen said. 

Dean stepped up to her first, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before wrapping his arms around her in a hug. 

"Thank you," he murmured. "I know that isn't exactly one of your kinks but nothing else we could do would have distracted anyone listening." 

"Hey, thanks to your plan they didn't know it was me," Karen replied before snagging Sam's hand in hers. "They just think I'm boring and you two like to share." 

"Well, we do," Sam said as he came closer. He pressed into Karen's body from behind. "But you're not boring. Not at all." 

"And them underestimating you is gonna be to our advantage," Dean added. 

"You think?" Karen asked. 

"I know," Dean said. 

Blushing a little, Karen looked away. She had trouble believing either Winchester man when they complimented her---no matter if it was pertaining to her as their lover or her as a hunter---even after everything they'd been through together. 

"So, now what?" she asked before either of them could say anything else. 

"Now we sit out here, watch the stars, and relax," Sam replied. "Figure it'd take twenty minutes or so to pick you up. Then we'll go inside and start to plan." 

"Gotta get to your mum," Karen said. "Convince her." 

Sam sighed. "Yeah. That's gonna be tough."

"Save it for later," Dean said. "We just jumped over the first hurdle in this messy race." 

"Cuddle time?" Karen asked. 

Dean grunted into her hair. "Yeah, cuddle time." 

Karen grinned into his jacket as both Sam and Dean pressed her between them. They had their work cut out for them---the Men of Letters were an underhandedly vile opponent---but they were making progress. 

And cuddle time with both Sam and Dean, no matter where it happened, was worth savouring.


End file.
